


Dance Studio Nine

by rosemilagros



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:22:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemilagros/pseuds/rosemilagros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benjamin Sisko arrives at the crumbling building he plans to rebuild and make his new home, but he seems to have stepped into the crossfire of a decades-old feud.</p><p>→ A contemporary AU set in an urban dance studio where the senior officers teach classes in various styles of dance and perform in their own "professional" crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Studio Nine

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me someone bought the place,” Mr. O’Brien said, trying yet another key in the bulky padlock. “But, I guess that’s why they set the asking price so low.” They key went in just fine, but withheld once he tried to turn it.

There was a joke here somewhere — something about not being able to legally access a building that in all likelihood could have been robbed weeks ago — but after an hour standing around in the boiling heat, Ben was not in the mood for jokes. Jake was smart not to leave the air-conditioned shelter of the car. He turned to look at their station wagon, parked at the end of the alley, where his son dozed off in the passenger’s seat.

O’Brien cursed as the door once again refused to unlock. He had already gone over the front door with the entire ring while Ben stood nearby and watched. The only thing left to try was this back door, and maybe the fire escape, if one of them could make the jump up there. It was beginning to look like he and Jake would be sleeping in the car tonight.

“Ah! There we go.”

Mr. O’Brien unhooked the padlock and slipped it into his pocket as the rusted chains clattered to the ground. The door swiveled open and Ben stepped inside after him.

He caught just a glimpse of the split staircase before the door swung shut and they were shrouded in darkness. Dim, natural light could be seen somewhere past the top of the steps. At least it was cooler in here than outside. “Excuse me, sir,” Mr. O'Brien muttered as he fumbled for the light switch. An exposed bulb flickered to life above them, revealing the dirty stairwell where they stood.

“That’s the cellar,” he said, indicating the downstairs to Ben. “Water heater, boiler, fuse box… it’s all down there.” He nodded and they moved upward, passing through another doorway and into a wide hallway. The stained glass doors — the ones they’d failed to open half an hour ago — sparkled at the other end.

“The original studio was down here,” O'Brien explained, opening the pocket doors on either side of the hall. “It hasn’t been used in a while, though. The Cardassians kicked the last company out after they moved in upstairs.”

Ben looked around the hall passively, noting the water damage above his head and the cracked linoleum below. He moved toward the larger room on the left and stood in the threshold, peering in at the depressing wood panelling. The longest wall was already installed with a mirror that looked as if it could give way at any moment, following the ill fate of the barre sitting at its feet. “Cardassians?” Ben inquired calmly.

“A law firm, sir. Cardassian LLP. They have a few offices across the state.” O'Brien watched as he inspected the other room, which was nearly identical aside from a crumbling piano in the corner. “Upstairs was one of their smaller ones. If I heard right, they relocated somewhere uptown.”

Ben studied the room. More water damage on the ceiling. He began to wonder if he’d made a mistake not choosing a smaller, more expensive place in the suburbs.“Tell me, Mr. O’Brien, have you worked here long?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say I work here,” he smiled. “They hired me to do some electrical work since it went vacant. I suppose I’ve just… looked after the place since then.”

He nodded. This was going to take a lot more work than he first anticipated, and Ben was certain he would not be able to finish it on his own — even with what little help Jake was willing to offer.“Would you be interested in putting in some more time?” he asked.

O’Brien seemed surprised by the question. “Yeah, of course,” he replied. “She may be a contractor’s worst nightmare but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t admire the place. Just tell me what you need done and I’ll draft up—”

There was a loud crash from above, followed by muffled shouting. They looked up simultaneously. The shouting did not cease as another crash shook the walls.

“I hope you’re not about to tell me that’s just the mice,” Ben said, raising an eyebrow.

O’Brien gave a dull laugh, but did not move his eyes from the ceiling. “No, sir. Not mice… but I have an idea of who it might be. And if I’m right, she shouldn’t be in here.”

The shouting became clearer as they climbed the stairs, the top few of which were littered with papers and unlabeled black binders. The second floor was in worse disrepair than the first. An overturned filing cabinet laid in the hallway, the area around it canvassed in shredded paper and manila folders. Ben took it that someone was not very pleased about leaving.

He followed Mr. O’Brien over the mess and into one of the front offices which, from the plaque on the unhinged door, once belonged to a certain S.G. Dukat.

A redheaded woman stood facing away from them, shouting into a phone; a drawerless, off-center desk was the only other object in the room. “I’ve been fighting for this place for years, damn it! You can’t just disregard all the—”

There was a faint interruption on the other end, at which the woman became visibly annoyed. Ben gave Mr. O’Brien a wary look, but allowed the conversation to carry on. “You know what?” she said, a bitter smile in her voice. “I don’t care what you have to say, because it won’t matter once the Reverend Mother hears about this. At least she understands what we’re doing isn’t about money.” She threw the phone against the wall in exasperation, settling as it crashed to the floor.

Her eyes widened briefly when she turned to see the two men standing there, before quickly regaining composure. “O’Brien,” she said, nodding to the Irishman. She looked at Ben with a less amiable grimace.“Who the hell is this?”

“I might ask you the same question,” he said, moving forward adversely.

Mr. O’Brien swiftly stepped in front of him, a concerned grin on his face. “Mr. Sisko,” he said, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. “May I introduce Nerys Kira. She belonged to the dance company that was here years ago.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she grumbled.

“And, um, this… this is Benjamin Sisko,” O’Brien said. He scratched his head and hesitated. “They just accepted his offer on the building.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Kira leaned forward on the desk. “What?”

Ben crossed his arms. “I take it you were interested in buying this hole in the wall?” he asked. Clearly he had not happened upon Ms. Kira at a premium moment, but that did not obligate him to make any allowances for her disposition or — if she was truly committed to having the studio — to forestall an inevitable confrontation.

Kira clenched her fists. “This… hole in the wall,” she mocked, “was my only haven as a child. It took me years to get that two-face Dukat and his sublegal laboratory out of here, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you come in here and take it away from me.”

Ben took a deep breath and put on a smile. “I’m afraid the arrangements have already been made, Ms. Kira. Like it or not, I’m moving in. You may feel free to use the studio at any time you’d like.” He looked around the room. “Once we have it cleaned up, of course.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” she sneered. “Excuse me if I don’t buy into your good-natured song and dance right away, but I heard the same story ten years ago from the Cardassians and I’ll be damned if I’m going to hear it again.” After picking up her broken phone and wishing both men a good day, Kira pushed past them and disappeared down the stairwell.

O’Brien took a deep breath once he heard the front door slam shut. “No matter how many locks I put on this place, she still finds some unearthly means of getting in.”

“If only she would bother to clean up during visits,” Ben said, leaning over to pick up one of the papers scattered across the floor. He scanned over the words, but it was nothing of any importance.

The last stop on the tour was the third floor apartment, where the Siskos would be living for the foreseeable future. It had laid virtually untouched for the past few years and, aside from a thick coating of dust and a curse of sweltering humidity, appeared to be serviceable. The idea of climbing two flights of stairs with groceries each week was not exactly exciting, but they would have to make do.

The two men were just about to head back downstairs when a sudden shout drifted through the open windows, accompanied by a cool breeze.

“It appears that Ms. Kira carried her temperament outside,” Ben said, moving toward a window to see what was going on. “Hopefully she won’t get herself into any real trouble.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, sir,” O’Brien replied. “She’s got quite the falsetto, but I’ve never seen her do any real damage.”

He peeked his head outside to get a better look at the street. Three figures stood together on the sidewalk. He easily identified the tallest by his navy blue uniform — a police officer, no doubt. The other two were much shorter, probably children. In fact, the red-shirted one almost looked like… “Jake.”

Ben did not hesitate to pull his head in from the window and take for the stairs.

O’Brien called after him, but there wasn’t enough time to reply. He reached the front door quickly and trotted down the concrete steps.

The police officer was only a few feet away, now in a heated discussion with a man he held fiercely by the collar. The two boys stood behind the officer, shuffling their feet anxiously. Jake brightened when he saw his father walking toward them.

“What the hell is going on here?” Ben roared, grabbing the attention of the two men and halting their argument.

The officer looked him over with leery, sunken eyes. “This is official police business,” he grumbled in a remarkably hoarse voice. “It would be best for you to stand aside.”

“I will stand aside once you explain to me why you’re harassing my son.”

Jake grabbed his arm. “Dad, I swear we were just—”

Ben hushed him and the police officer gave a dubious nod as he slowly released the shorter man’s shirt. “Ah. You’re the boy’s father.”

“That’s right,” Ben said. “And I’d like to know what my son did wrong.”

“Well then,” he smirked, taking a step toward Jake. “I think you’d be interested to know that I caught him consorting with this young man—” He indicated the boy fidgeting at Jake’s side, “—only moments after receiving a call that a boy of his description was seen shoplifting at a gas station just three blocks away.”

Ben resisted rolling his eyes. “So you think my son’s guilty because he was talking with someone who may or may not be a suspect in a convenience store theft?”

“See, Odo! I told you these accusations are ridiculous.” The short, weasel-like man stepped between them, offering a frightening grin and a cordial clasp on his shoulder. “It’s obvious my nephew could only have a peripheral involvement in all this.” Ben shrugged his hand away.

The police officer barely acknowledged him. “Larceny is a very serious crime, Mr…?”

“Sisko.”

“Mr. Sisko,” he recited. “Lest you would like to avoid seeing my face again in the near future, I suggest you keep your boy away from Quark,” he looked to the shorter man, then to his nephew, “and any of his relatives.”

“Thank you, sir. The advice is most appreciated,” Ben said, forcing a smile. He tried to minimize the sarcasm in his voice. “Now, unless you’re going to charge my son with a very serious crime such as larceny, we have a lot of work to do at home.”

The officer grumbled something to himself before turning to Jake. “You’re free to go,” he snapped.

Ben wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulder as they walked back toward their new home, leaving the two men to rattle between themselves once more. “I thought you were going to stay in the car,” he teased, rubbing his knuckles against Jake’s head.

 


End file.
